


Wear Many Hats

by sevensyllables



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Dress Up, Dresses, F/F, Fallout Kink Meme, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 16:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5213252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevensyllables/pseuds/sevensyllables
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As excited as Veronica was to finally own a dress, she feels silly once she gets it on. Cass makes her feel pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wear Many Hats

**Author's Note:**

> “wear many hats” – idiom, when one has many different tasks to perform or roles to fulfill

The Courier had given her a look like she had lost her mind as he, Arcade, and ED-E made their way into the elevator, but Veronica couldn’t bring herself to care or to stop rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. So she was excited; that wasn’t illegal.

Sure, it was unlike her to pass up an afternoon of punching hostile strangers in the face, but she could do that any old day in the Mojave. It wasn’t often that she could have the Lucky 38 to herself—Lily had gently suggested to Raul that they needed to go check in on his Brahmin calf at his shack, and Boone and Cass had wandered out earlier, mumbling something about heading to Freeside—so she needed to strike when the pneumatic gauntlet was hot. Or something.

Just last week, after an excursion to Ultra Luxe, the Courier had presented her with a poorly-wrapped gift: a dress of her very own. She had squealed, obviously, and hurriedly hugged him before dashing off to the guest bedroom of the 38, but she hadn’t tried it on at the time. Hadn’t tried it on the next day or the day after, although she repeated her thanks profusely when the Courier asked her how she liked it. It wasn’t that she didn’t _want_ to wear the dress—Veronica had never been shy about knowing what she wanted—but it hadn’t been something she was willing to allow Boone or Cass to tease her for, so she had waited.

“Wish me luck, Rex,” she said, reaching down to pat him on the head as she scooted past him into the bedroom. Rex just harrumphed into his crossed paws, clearly not understanding the monumental occurrence that was about to unfold on the other side of the door.

She carefully removed the dress from the wardrobe in the far corner, smoothing out a few stray creases in the skirt. It was beautiful: a simple off-the-shoulder neckline, a hem that would hit just below her knee, all pale pink and satiny. There were a few brown splotches near the hemline that might possibly be blood, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t had plenty of practice at removing bloodstains from clothing to this point, and it had come from the Courier after all. Veronica was not interested in looking a gift dress in the mouth.

She threw back her hood, holding the dress to her front and twirling in view of the nearby mirror. She paused briefly, locking eyes with her own reflection, caught on the contrast between her Brotherhood robes, her power fist, and the delicate garment she held before her. It hadn’t been something that she’d experienced growing up in a bunker—clothing was meant to be practical, purposeful, rather than frivolous—but the phrase ‘like a child dressing up in her mother’s clothes’ stuck in her head nonetheless. She shook her head, “Come on, Veronica,” and tossed her power glove onto the chair behind her; the entire effect would be better once she had the dress on, surely.

She shucked her Brotherhood robe without fuss, kicking her boots to the floor, her underwear the only thing she left on. She unzipped the dress quickly, the soft whir of the zipper sending a thrill up her spine. She let the skirt puddle on the floor as she stepped into it, slipping her arms through the holes of the off-the-shoulder sleeves. As she pulled the dress flush with her body her first impression was…itchy. The inner layer of the skirt wasn’t the same smooth, slippery material as the outside, and it brushed against her legs uncomfortably. She bent over, readjusting the way that it fell against her lower body, but the itchiness persisted. As she straightened up again, a single curl of hair fell across her eyes. She tried to blow it back in place twice, then brushed it away impatiently as she turned to face the mirror again.

It wasn’t all that she had expected. Maybe pink wasn’t her color, or perhaps the style wasn’t suited to her shape, but when Veronica looked in the mirror she saw a little girl playing at being a woman, a member of the Brotherhood pretending at being a normal member of society. Then again, she didn’t have the dress all the way on yet, so maybe the best was yet to come. She squared her shoulders, clenched her fists once absently—it wasn’t as if she had her gauntlet on—and then smoothed down the front of the dress. She moved one hand to the small of her back to hold the zipper in place, glancing at her profile in the mirror as she did. She tried for a smile, sighed, and began to zip.

And the dress did fit, as it turned out, zipper slipping up her back neatly, although Veronica doubted that was in any way the Courier’s aim when he’d found it. She grinned at her reflection in earnest now, relishing the look of the dress as it conformed to her sides, back, completely unlike the figure she cut in Brotherhood canvas.

Her smile turned to a frown when the zipper stopped moving. She tugged at it, twisted to try to get a better angle, but of course it had gotten caught in the precise place in the middle of her back she couldn’t quite reach. She jerked at it once, and the material gave a groan. “Come on you stupid dress.”

“Need a hand there, princess?”

Veronica caught herself on the nearby bedframe, nearly falling to the carpeted floor as she tripped over the boots she had left underfoot. “Holy crap,” she said, standing back up with a tug at her hem. “Cass,” she said, bringing one hand up to her chest to hold the front of the dress in place, ostensibly out of some form of modesty, but at least partially also to calm her pounding heart. “You almost gave me a heart attack. I thought you were supposed to be hanging out at the Wrangler with Boone.”

“Nah, he was in one of his moods. So I let him go brood and shoot something,” Cass shrugged, eyeing Veronica’s outfit with the slightest upturn of one corner of her mouth. “The Garrets still won’t serve me any drinks after what happened with their sexbot and that ghoul that one time, like it was my fault the curtains caught fire.” She walked further into the room, looking Veronica up and down. “I could only stand to heckle Hadrian sober for so long. I got bored.” She shrugged again, held out one hand in Veronica’s direction. “Did you want me to do you up?”

“Oh, no,” she felt her cheeks heat up, didn’t want to see what she looked like in the mirror now. “I was just about to take it off, it’s stupid anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” Cass drawled, eyes trailing up and down Veronica’s body—or the line of the dress, rather. “I think you look great.”

“I mean, the dress is fine,” Veronica hedged, fussing with the hem and not meeting her eyes. “But it’s not like I can really accessorize it with a power fist.” She turned around and fidgeted with the back of it, trying to tug it down, but she couldn’t get the zipper unstuck in that direction either.

“So you can paint your fist pink to match, what’s the problem?” Cass stepped closer; out of the corner of her eye Veronica could see that her reflection had joined her own in the mirror.

“The problem is that this isn’t _me_ ,” Veronica retorted, hands clenched again by her sides. “I’m brown canvas Brotherhood robes and punching people in the face.”

“Yeah, and who says that’s the only thing you _can_ be?” Cass crossed her arms, raised one skeptical eyebrow. “A person can wear more than one hat.”

“You wear literally the same hat every day of your life.”

“It’s a metaphorical hat!” Cass rolled her eyes, and removed the non-metaphorical hat in question from her head, tossing it to join Veronica’s glove on the armchair in the corner. “Haven’t you ever heard that saying before? What I mean is, a person can like something without that being their entire life, whether it’s frilly froufrou girl dresses or knocking assholes out cold.” Cass tapped one foot at the carpeted floor. “Seriously, Six went to all that trouble and you’re not even gonna try it on all the way?”

Veronica hazarded another look in the mirror, but was still overwhelmed by soft pink. She turned back to Cass, “I thought he just stole it.”

“He did just steal it, but now you’re being stubborn for no reason. Come on,” she gestured toward the mirror. Veronica turned around slowly, with a sigh, and averted her gaze. “Here,” Cass said. “You’ve gotta hold the sides together if it gets jammed like this.”

Veronica twisted her arms around behind her head to hold the two sides of the dress together as instructed. “There we go,” Cass said as she firmly gripped the bottom of the zipper, and tugged with even pressure. The dress sealed up perfectly, zipper flush to Veronica’s spine. Cass took a step back and looked at Veronica in the mirror. She wolf-whistled. “Well, aren’t you just a sight, Lady Veronica.”

“Shut up,” Veronica said, cheeks burning. She punched Cass lightly in the shoulder, couldn’t look at herself in the mirror. “Okay, now unzip it, I told you I’d look stupid.”

“I’m kidding with you but that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it. You look damn good.” Cass placed her hands on Veronica’s shoulders, made her face the mirror full on.

And maybe she did look okay, body of the dress clinging prettily to the slight curves Veronica never got to show the light of the Mojave day, her pale shoulders straight and proud where they were bared to the air. She smoothed both hands down the front of the dress, luxuriating in the feel of the material against her palms, enthralled by the way the fabric shifted back into place after she’d let it go. She bit her lip as she looked back up, met Cass’s eyes in the mirror. She was smiling, hands still resting against Veronica’s shoulders, and Veronica’s stomach flipped at the sight. The two of them looked good like that, pressed together in front of the mirror.

Veronica flushed at the thought—she tried not to make it a habit of daydreaming of women who didn’t want her, especially not ones she happened to live and work with at all hours of the day and night—and attempted to hide it by ducking her head. “My hair is awful,” she complained instead.

If she had wanted to lessen Cass’s scrutiny of her that was evidently the wrong way to go. “Here, then,” Cass said as she reached out and combed her hair out with her fingers, helped it hang a little looser around her ears. She met Veronica’s eyes in the mirror again. “Better?”

Veronica stared at the mirror, and with her hair curling gently above her shoulders, she suppposed could almost believe that she was someone who wears dresses. “Sure,” she said blithely, hoping that Cass might take a step back.

“See?” Cass said, running one hand up and down her bare arm in encouragement. “Get you some lipstick and a pair of girly shoes and you’re a regular belle of the ball.”

Veronica laughed weakly. “Lipstick I might be able to manage, but somehow I don’t think there are any heels lying around the suite.” Cass still didn’t step back.

“Not unless Lily’s hiding a collection we didn’t know about.”

Veronica chuckled and shrugged off Cass’s hands to spin around, watching as the skirt twirled in the mirror. It was freeing, sure, and a beautiful garment, and Veronica could see that the shape and color flattered her, really, but the skirt still itched and the hem was still bloodstained and Veronica was still a member of the Brotherhood of Steel, Punching Things Division, playing at being a glamorous like an Old World starlet. She sighed and picked at a stray thread in the side seam.

“What’s wrong?” Cass said, the two of them with matching frowns in the mirror.

“I don’t know, I just…” she sighed again, and tucked a curl behind her ear. “I thought I’d feel different. This is stupid, but I’ve been dreaming about owning one of these pretty much since I was a little girl, and now…I don’t know.” She shrugged at herself in the mirror. At the very least, she was all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Cass nodded sagely from behind her. “Never meet your heroes.”

Veronica shot her an unimpressed look over her shoulder. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Cass rolled her eyes and punched Veronica’s bare shoulder lightly. “Well, I still think you look great. Can you admit that at least?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess,” Veronica said, glancing back at the mirror. “But do you really mean it? You’re not just screwing with me?”

Cass laid one sarcastic hand across her own chest, “Cross my heart,” but the brightness of her smile belied her tone.

Veronica snorted and punched her in the shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

Cass grinned harder and pressed her hands against Veronica’s shoulders again, steering her back to the mirror. “Come on, you always look pretty, but now you look fantastic.”

They held each other’s eyes for several too-long seconds, Veronica’s heartbeat flickering at the thought that Cass always found her pretty, even thought of her at all, and their matching grins dimmed side by side in the mirror. Cass backed off minutely and cleared her throat. “Uh, were you going to leave it on for a while or did you need my help to get it back off?”

“Oh, um, sure,” Veronica said as she turned and bared her back.

Cass unclasped the eyelet hook at the top and her hands stilled for a moment, calloused fingertips hot against nape of Veronica’s neck. Veronica wondered what it might feel like if those rough hands dipped lower, and shivered. “Hey,” Cass said.

Veronica looked back at her over her shoulder. She had never noticed before, but they were the same height when she didn’t have her boots on. Their faces were scant inches from each other, and there was no mistaking the way Cass’s eyes widened and lingered on Veronica’s lips.

Veronica’s mind couldn’t help but snap back to a conversation she’d overheard from two tables away, through the lurid background music at the Wrangler one still-warm night weeks ago. Cass had slung her arm around the Courier’s shoulders, pleasantly buzzed at the time rather than unbearably numbed, and crowed that she didn’t much have a preference for bedding men or women a few drinks in, a drunken admission of drunken admissions. Cass’s eyes had met hers across the bar with a smirk a moment later, where Veronica sat and matched Boone shot for shot, and her ears had burned that Cass might have caught her listening. It seemed now that maybe she hadn’t been listening hard enough.

“Have you been drinking?” Veronica asked, dropping her own eyes to Cass’s lips for the barest of seconds before flicking back up.

“Not a drop,” Cass said. She didn’t pull back when Veronica closed the gap between them.

Cass’s lips were lightly chapped but gentle on hers. Even though she had just admitted she hadn’t been drinking that day, Veronica was still surprised that she didn’t taste of whiskey. She just tasted like Cass.

She groaned into the kiss, it had been far too long, and dropped her hands to hips to guide Cass backward toward the bed. Cass bumped against the frame with a laugh, pulled away to smile devilishly at Veronica through her lashes. “Easy there, or you’ll muss your pretty dress.”

Veronica slid her hands up Cass’s sides with a grin of her own. She dipped forward to whisper against the shell of Cass’s ear, “What if I don’t want to take it easy?”

Cass nipped at the skin below her ear. “That I can do, too, princess.” She hoisted herself up onto the footboard, legs dangling against the frame, and tugged at Veronica’s waist.

Veronica went easily, clambering up onto Cass’s lap in a most unladylike fashion. The dress poofed around her as she pressed herself flush against Cass’s chest. Cass held onto her back with one hand, ran the other up Veronica’s bare calf, snaking beneath the folds of the dress to the meat of her thigh. Veronica gasped quietly, wondering why that wasn’t an advertised feature for dresses; they were obviously superior to pants.

She rocked forward in Cass’s lap, picking open the buttons on her shirt as Cass teased at the edges of her underwear. She was wearing a worn undershirt beneath it, but clearly no bra, nipples pebbled through the cotton. Cass grinned into their kiss as Veronica cupped her breasts. Veronica nearly bit Cass’s lip when her she slid her hand beneath her underwear, crooked a finger between her thighs. She pushed back at Cass’s shoulders, shoving the button down off of her arms, twisting her partway out of that undershirt, before they overbalanced and Veronica landed on top of Cass on the bed in a heap.

“Oh,” Veronica said, startled, but Cass just threw her head back against the quilt and cackled.

“Come on,” Cass said, rolling herself on top of Veronica, and her undershirt hung away from her body, showing off her breasts with their light smattering of freckles, inviting. She shimmied out of her jeans above her. Veronica grinned into her own shoulder as Cass pulled off her underwear, tickled at her thighs with her fingertips before pressing kisses into Veronica’s hair.

They met each other’s mouths with excited gasps, and Cass moaned happily as Veronica trailed her hands up her stomach, over her breasts, coaxing Cass’s shirt up and over her head. Veronica had heard Cass describe herself as scrawny before, but to Veronica she looked lithe, ready for anything, ready to strike.

“You’re gorgeous,” Veronica blurted, just as Cass had leaned over her again to tease a pair of fingers between her folds.

“You’re sweet,” Cass smirked, grin widening when Veronica gasped as she thumbed at her clit. “But I could probably make you say just about anything right about now.”

“I don’t know,” Veronica said brazenly, pulling Cass down into another searing kiss. “Depends on what you want to hear me say.”

Cass chuckled against her cheek, sucking kisses in a trail down her neck to her collarbone. She quirked one eyebrow up at Veronica, face otherwise the picture of innocence, as if she didn’t have two fingers and a thumb working between her thighs.

“‘Please’?” Veronica said, just managing to keep from rolling her eyes.

“You could at least sound like you mean it,” Cass griped, but she slid a palm under the neckline of Veronica’s dress nonetheless.

“Yes,” Veronica breathed out, lost in the feel of Cass’s left hand rubbing her nipple, the right thumbing her clit. She grabbed Cass’s face with both hands, pulling the tie out of her hair as she kissed her. Cass’s hair was soft, silky strands of red getting caught between them as Veronica ran her fingers along her scalp. Her fingers clenched in that hair when Cass pinched at her nipple just this side of too tight, and Cass groaned against Veronica’s lips.

She sat up, pulling both hands out from their places beneath Veronica’s dress and snaked them around her back to get at her zipper. Veronica arched up on her elbows accommodatingly, nibbling at Cass’s ear while she pulled.

Veronica was just trying to coax Cass back into a kiss when she swore. “Fuck, hold on,” Cass said, gesturing for Veronica to sit up. “Can you—”

“Yeah,” Veronica agreed, levering herself up, trying to hold her back and shoulders in such a way as to not stretch the fabric so taut. She frowned as Cass still struggled with the zipper. “Seriously?”

“Hold on,” Cass repeated, clambering off of Veronica to sit behind her on the bed, tugging at the dress in earnest now. The fabric creaked, but Veronica did not get free.

“How bad is it?” Veronica finally asked, body aching for the tantalizing feel of Cass’s wandering hands already.

“Okay,” Cass said slowly, hands coming to rest on Veronica’s waist. “On a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if I tore your pretty, pretty dress?”

Veronica made a horrified sound, whipping her head around as if she would be able to see what the problem was with the zipper. “Seriously?” she whined again.

“Okay,” Cass repeated, even more slowly, making sure she had Veronica’s full attention. “On a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if I didn’t bury my face in your nethers in the next thirty seconds?”

Veronica’s eyes widened, and pout dropped. She swallowed, then quickly said, “Boone left a knife on the bedside table.”

“Dress it is,” Cass said, leaping up from the bed to grab the combat knife from its place next to a comb.

Veronica squared her shoulders with a suppressed sigh, biting her lip harder at each new grating rip of fabric at her back. She supposed Cass had been right: she could be Brotherhood while being herself, and she had liked how she had looked, how she had felt, in the dress after all. She sighed and figured that was yet another idiom proven right on the day: you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. She squeaked once when a flash of cold metal scraped against her skin, Cass immediately following it up with a kiss to the back of the neck and a hurried apology, but she hadn’t drawn blood. With one final, awful sawing tear of fabric, Cass had Veronica free.

She rose up to her knees, let Cass pull the remains of the dress over her head and toss it and the knife to the floor in a heap. Before she could try to evaluate the damage, Cass pressed a gentle hand to her cheek, turning her head away from the sight. “Hey,” she said softly, kissing her.

Veronica let Cass press her down onto the bed, dress momentarily forgotten and back arching as Cass kissed a meandering path across her breasts, down her stomach, to the space between her thighs. She lapped at her folds and Veronica moaned, biting at her clenched fist, legs clenching inward reflexively. Cass chuckled and shot her a look from where she was busy, pointedly spreading Veronica’s knees as far as they would go. Veronica clutched at the coverlet with both hands as Cass flicked her tongue over her clit, sucking it deeply against her lips for one tantalizing moment before returning to broad strokes. She struggled to keep her knees down on the bed, couldn’t keep from gasping and groaning as Cass’s tongue worked tirelessly.

“God, Cass,” she gasped, as she felt her release building. She threw her head back against the bedspread, openmouthed. She came with a groan, thighs quivering, but Cass didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, tongue and fingers insistent even as Veronica pulsed around her. She kept going even after the aftershocks ceased, and every stroke of her tongue, every brush of her finger was that much more sensitive for it. She took twice as long to come the second time, but she groaned twice as loud.

She gasped for breath, one hand thrown across her face, blocking out most of Cass’s self-satisfied smirk. “Get up here,” she finally said, and Cass rose to her knees and climbed up the bed, straddling Veronica’s middle. “Get these off,” Veronica demanded, tugging at Cass’s underwear.

“Bossy, bossy,” Cass said, but she twisted the underwear off immediately all the same.

Veronica grabbed at her waist and pulled, her muscles automatically recalling the pattern for a takedown that she’d been drilled in with years of training. Cass landed on her back with a surprised ‘oomph,’ grinning up at where Veronica now straddled her. “You use those moves on everyone?”

“Nah,” Veronica said, nipping at Cass’s ear. “Just the nice girls.”

Whatever retort Cass had for her was swallowed in a groan as she sucked one nipple, then the other. Veronica paused, tapped two fingers against Cass’s lips. Cass looked at her oddly for one moment before breaking into a grin and letting Veronica slide her fingers into her mouth. She brushed her tongue against them teasingly, clearly trying to distract Veronica with recollections of her tongue in more delicate locations just a few moments before, but Veronica reclaimed her fingers and replaced them with her mouth, reaching down to tease at Cass where she was already wet. She slipped her middle finger inside her, searching, and was rewarded by a grunt of pleasure against her lips.

Cass clutched at Veronica’s hair, holding on while she worked her fingers in an easy slide, in and out. Cass faltered, eyelashes fluttering against Veronica’s cheek as her legs twisted against the bed. “I—” she groaned, bit Veronica’s lip for her attention. “I can’t like this,” she panted, brushing one hand at Veronica’s cheek.

“Okay,” Veronica murmured. “I’ve got you covered.” She slid her fingers out with a quick kiss. She flipped Cass over easily, pulled her flush against her own front so that they were both lying on their sides. She kneaded at Cass’s breasts with one hand as she snaked the other back down to her clit. Like this, from behind, it was easy, familiar, like any number of times Veronica had silently slid her hands down her own body and brought herself off in the dead of the night. Cass shuddered against her, thighs straining as Veronica rubbed at her. Cass brought one hand up behind her and craned her head over her shoulder, cupping Veronica’s head in a panting kiss.

Moments later she came groaning into Veronica’s mouth, fingers still working relentlessly between her thighs. Cass moaned into Veronica’s mouth through the pulsing aftershocks, then let her hand fall to rest on her cheek, breathing uneven. Veronica pressed one quick kiss to her fingers as Cass’s lips quirked in a tired smile.

They lay back against the bed, allowing themselves to catch their breath for several long moments. Veronica stretched against the comforter, one hand digging at the sheets indolently, feeling…good. She could see Cass’s freckled skin mingled with hers in the mirror in the corner, just their feet tangled together, but it was enough. She smiled, covered her grin with her hand and sighed dreamily, skimming one fingertip along Cass’s flank beside her. She didn’t know what this meant for them, or even what she wanted it to mean. But she did know that this—all the toe-curling, breathless wonder that it was—was just as much a part of her as drawing cartoon animals or helping people by punching people, and that felt like enough, like misgivings and self-consciousness tamed.

When she reopened her eyes she blinked, and realized with a curious frown that she didn’t have a crack in the ceiling above her bed. She glanced to her right and giggled aloud; they were on Arcade’s bed, not her own.

“What,” Cass mumbled, not bothering to pull her face away from where it was mashed against her own skin.

“Umm, oops,” Veronica said, sitting up and patting the bedspread. “Arcade’s going to kill us.”

Cass raised her head from where it was pillowed on her arms and blinked sluggishly at their surroundings. “Huh,” she said after a second. “I coulda sworn we were on the next one over.” She sat up and stretched, spine cracking in that way that usually made Veronica’s skin crawl. But right now, Veronica couldn’t look away from the long line of her back. “Like it matters,” Cass continued, arms flung out above her head. “He never uses it anyway.”

“That’s true,” Veronica agreed, trailing one finger up Cass’s back, tapping on individual freckles with a smile.

Cass grinned down at her fondly and was bending down, presumably for a kiss, when she winced openly.

“What?” Veronica said.

Cass ignored her, and leaned over the side of the bed. A pause, awkward and altogether unlike Cass, then she quickly turned back to Veronica. She would almost say Cass looked a little guilty, if Cass were capable of feeling anything similar to shame.

“What—” she repeated, but then it hit her like lightning. The dress. She had actually forgotten about the dress. She clambered over Cass and peered over the side of the bed. The dress lay in sad tatters near the footboard, the bodice slashed crudely in a cut that ran roughly parallel to the stubborn and broken zipper.

“Oh no, my poor dress,” Veronica cooed. There probably wasn’t any fixing it, not with how sheared the back was. “It was so young.” She bent down to retrieve the garment, and it was even worse than she thought; it was practically in pieces. She hugged it to her chest as she turned back to Cass with a pitiful frown.

“Don’t worry, princess,” Cass said, placing one hand gently on Veronica’s bare knee. “I’ll still be here to help you try on the next one.”

Veronica took one look at Cass’s easy grin and dropped the ruined dress to the floor. Maybe Lily and all of her needle skills could save it yet, but if not, Veronica figured there would always be other dresses in the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [ this prompt](http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6099.html?thread=15557843#t15557843) on the Fallout Kink Meme.


End file.
